


Sing me a sweet melody

by KippieHValentine



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adult!Jean, Adult!Marco, Bar, Bartender Dot Pixis, Drinking, Fan Jean, Incomplete, M/M, Singer Marco, Singing, To Be Continued, drunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KippieHValentine/pseuds/KippieHValentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is a singer at the local bar, and a damn good one at that. Jean is his biggest fan, but he has his doubts about meeting the man of his dreams. After all, 'Celebrities' are always rude, aren't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing me a sweet melody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZephyrWolffOfTheShire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrWolffOfTheShire/gifts).



> Gift for my good friend Zephyr. He's a bit down in the dumps and I recalled he liked JeanMarco a LOT so...Boom JeanMarco :3
> 
> I apologize in advance for any typos. I didn't have time to proofread with my running on only two hours of sleep and tons of caffeine... This is chapter 1 of a (Hopefully) 5-6 chapter work. It may or may not end up with more chapters. 
> 
> Thank you in advance for reading and please feel free to give me any feedback you'd like, I look forward to seeing your thoughts on chapter one!

How many times had he come here? Everyday this week, right? He sighed, looking into the glass in his hand. Why was he here again? “Ladies and gentlemen!” Oh, that's right. He'd come to watch him again. Marco. Pale brown eyes lifted to lock on the man on stage. Why had he come to see him perform? Was it because of his voice? Or maybe the smile he wore as he sang…? He had a tendency to look so happy up there. Jean sighed, lifting his glass to his lips and chugging what little alcohol he'd had left in it. His attention was fully turned to the stage as he heard the familiar sound of Marco's voice speaking behind the curtain. 

Jean had had a reason for coming here...He knew he did. But what was it? He stared at the man as he emerged on the stage, his lips pursed a bit. A pale hand reached out to grasp the microphone. Freckled cheeks reddened in the spotlight. Oh. That's right...He was going to speak to him tonight. Why? He already knew what would happen. Celebrities weren't polite. And they most certainly weren't interested in strangers that just happened to watch their show every night. Actually, it was basically borderline stalking, wasn't it? Showing up to every show? The brown haired man grumbled under his breath as he signaled for the bartender to refill his glass.

“Another, Jean?” 

“Please.” 

“A lot on your mind?”

“Just a single person, really.” He nodded to the bartender as he took the – now full – glass in his hand and lifted it to his lips.

“Don't overdue it.” Were the words that the elderly gentleman left him with. He sighed. When had he ever overdone it? He squinted his eyes as he thought about it. Well...there was that one time. Vaguely he recalled a rather embarrassing event he'd gotten himself into the last time he drank too much. Dancing drunkenly on the bar was probably not his finest moment. He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, pushing his glass aside a bit. Probably best to drink this one slower. Music had begun to fill the room, directing his attention once more to the freckled man on stage. His voice rang out strongly, blending perfectly with the music and creating a melody that made Jean's heart skip a beat.

To be honest, watching this man every night was starting to make him feel a bit like a creep. Why did he insist on doing such? Well, it probably had something to do with the fact that he found the man immensely attractive. God, how creepy could he get? He sighed, listening to the man's voice until it wasn't there to listen to anymore. How long had he been sitting here? He glanced at his watch. An hour and a half. Not bad. Longer than the last show. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Marco exiting the stage and moving to the bar like he usually did. A few straggling men walked to him, spoke in hushed voices, but quickly turned away once more. Why? Shit, it was probably because he was rude or something. And Jean was debating talking to him himself. He needed some serious help. This had to be some kind of masochism or something, didn't it? 

He found himself pushing himself from his seat and moving across the room, regardless of his doubts on the man's personality. The bar was abuzz as usual with the feedback on the man's performance. Marco had blown them away, again. He always did. Jean seated himself in the chair next to him, his eyes on the wooden surface of the table. 

“Hiya.” Marco's voice rose, quiet and tentative as if afraid to speak. Jean was a bit surprised but to be honest that didn't really mean much. He could still be rude. Perhaps he was just hiding it for the sake of giving a good first impression. “Like a drink?” The darker haired man smiled, his teeth seeming to catch the light in just the right way, making them seem brighter than usual. 

“I...” Jean was at a loss for words. He sat there in silence for a moment, embarrassment slowly flooding over him. Here he was, in front of the man of his dreams...and he couldn't even speak. There was one solution for that. Alcohol. He nodded his head slowly. 

“Beer okay?” Another nod. Marco smiled once more, giving the order to the bartender. The old man looked at Jean out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Clearly he was disappointed. Oh well. It wasn't like Jean cared. Light brown eyes locked on the equally shaded ones of the other man. “You gotta name?” Marco tilted his head to the side. 

“Jean...Jean Kirstein.” His voice cracked a bit, causing his cheeks to redden. Marco's nose crinkled a bit as a small laugh escaped him. 

“Marco Bott.” He held out his hand, his eyes glittering in the light of the room. “Nice to meet you, Jean Kirstein.” Gentle hands collided in a handshake. The skin of the singer's hand was warm and soft. Compared to Jean's own skin...it was like that of an angel. Wow...he was getting mushy. He watched the bartender as he placed the drinks in front of them. “Thanks, Pixis.” Marco nodded to the man then turned his attention back to Jean. “I think I've seen you here a few times. Do you always spend your weekends watching the wonders of the bar?” 

Jean took a quick drink of his beer and slowly shook his head. “I...just come here when I have nothing to do.” He lied. 

“You must be a man with a lot of free time.” Marco smirked. “You're here every night, aren't you?” 

“I...” Jean froze, his eyes taking in Marco's features. He had noticed him? Why? How? Confusion wafted over him as he tried to figure it out. “Enjoy...this place?”

“Oh?” The black haired man shifted in his seat, turning to face Jean as he took a drink from his own beer. “Why is that?”

“I guess mostly because of the music.” Oh god. God he was so stupid. He mentally slapped himself. Why did he blurt it out like that? He always did that. He always spoke without thinking. Stupid. So god damn stupid. 

“Really?” Marco looked incredulous as he stared at him. “My music? Gosh.” He smiled. “It's not that good, ya know?” He visibly blushed as he shifted in his seat once more. “But...thank you.” 

“D...Don't mention it.” Jean stared at his beer as he tried to think of a way to continue the conversation...but he didn't have to. Marco had begun speaking again. The conversation seemed to go on for a long time, much longer than Jean would've initially expected. It was small talk...things you usually talked about with people you weren't friends with yet. Work, hobbies, etc. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the conversation must've lasted a least an hour maybe two. Most of the other bar inhabitants had left by the time the two of them were silent. After a long pause in their conversation, Marco spoke up once more. 

“Well, I guess I should get going soon. Got a long walk ahead of me.” He laughed. 

“Walk?” Jean stared at him, squinting his eyes a bit. 

“I don't drive.” He rose from his seat, shrugging his shoulders.

“I'll give you a lift.” 

“Huh?” Marco turned to look at him, lifting his eyebrows. “Really?” He laughed softly, his lips curling into another beautiful smile. “But...aren't you a bit drunk?”

“Nah. I'm good to drive. Always do.” Jean shrugged, rising to his feet and moving forward. “No big deal.” 

“Well then, Mr. Kirstein...” Marco grinned. “I put my faith in you. Please get me home safely.” 

“I'll do my best, Mr. Bott.” Jean grinned back. Why did he feel so calm right now? It was like he'd known this man for years even though they'd only spoken just moments ago. Then again, maybe he felt that way because he'd practically been stalking him? He wasn't really sure. He fumbled with his keys a bit as he lead Marco to his car. Was it really safe to drive? He wasn't really sure on that either. But, he was going to do it anyways. He opened the passenger door for Marco, his eyes watching the man as he moved to it. 

“What a gentleman.” Marco teased, clearly a bit tipsy. Or maybe more than just a little tipsy. Drunk? Probably. That seemed more correct. Jean moved around to the driver side, climbing in quickly and quietly. He needed directions...But he felt strange breaking the silence that'd settled itself into the car. “Alright, Mr. Kirstein. The apartment complex.” 

“Really? I thought maybe you'd live somewhere bigger.”

Marco laughed, “I wish...Bar gigs don't pay as much as you'd think.” He crossed his legs as he watched the scenery out the window. Silence again. Though, Jean didn't mind much. It was a bit nice. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. Just silence. Nothing more. Though, as they reached the apartment, Marco spoke once more. “Alright, Mr. Kirstein.” He lifted a hand. “You're staying here. You're swerving like a madman and I don't want the death of such a kind man on my conscious.” 

“Swerving? I was driving perfectly straight.” 

“Trust me, good sir, you were a bit off the straight path and a bit on the curvy one.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I insist you stay here. The couch, perhaps.” He stepped from the car, closing the door before Jean had the chance to protest further. Was it really okay for him to stay at a strangers house? Why was Marco so trusting? Why was Jean following him into the building without a single protest? What was going on? This certainly wasn't a good idea. But, it was happening nonetheless. And there was nothing he could do about it. Marco had made it very clear that he wouldn't be driving tonight. And he even went so far as to take his keys from him without him even noticing. Clever. Very Clever. Well, he supposed things couldn't be all bad, right? He was drunk, but surely nothing could go wrong. As long as he remained on the couch. That was all he needed to do. Of course, that was a bit harder than he'd expected...And what would happen in the morning would change things more than he'd intended.


End file.
